


i'm on fire

by myloveiamthespeedofsound



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but it gets resolved, even less than Jon Snow, model!natasha, no powers, photographer!Steve, steve knows nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8120215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myloveiamthespeedofsound/pseuds/myloveiamthespeedofsound
Summary: Steve is a photographer, Natasha is his subject for the day.  He's got a big boy crush, and maybe she might like him a little bit too, but Steve's an idiot and the likelihood of him figuring that one out is about as likely as pigs flying.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended listening - [I'm on Fire, AWOLNATION](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-E2sq2Ezy8)

For a guy who barely cleared 5’5 on a good day and a whole 115 pounds soaking wet Steve Rogers spent a surprising number of days surrounded by women most would declare, and  _ have  _ on many occasions, completely out of his league. And he thinks in some self deprecating way that maybe that is what makes him good at his job. He's non threatening. Harmless. He's not the kind of man that a woman looks at and  _ wants _ . And he's okay with that. For the most part. He'd had a few girlfriends here and there, but nothing that serious. His job tended to keep him too busy to really think too much about it anyways. His job surrounded by the kind of women that made his best friend, Bucky, mad with envy and wish he'd paid more attention in art class. Bucky who was currently blowing up his phone with texts over that day's shoot. 

BB》I hate you.  
BB》I'm serious, Rogers.  
BB》I hate you.  
BB》I would kill to be where you are right now.|  
BB》Can I come help?  I'll… hold a light stand or something. That's a thing right????

Steve huffed a laugh to himself and then typed back a reply. 

SR》It's a thing, but I already have an assistant.  
SR》Sorry, Buck. 

He silenced the phone so it wouldn't interrupt the shoot and set it down next to his laptop. The client, a high end perfume brand, was one had had worked with a few times before. If he was really honest it wasn't his favorite thing to do. Scantily clad women with their come hither faces -  and he still wasn't a hundred percent sure what the photos were supposed to even sell other than a misguided sense of inadequacy in a good chunk of the women who viewed them or something for guys like Bucky to lust after. But still, it paid the bills and with the cost of rent for the studio and loft space he worked and lived out of he wasn’t exactly in the position to turn down paid work. 

He'd also worked with the model before - Natasha Romanoff. She did exclusively print work, her height easily discluding her from runway, and more recently she'd started acting. And Bucky's lust was well placed in this particular situation. Natasha was stunning - and one of the biggest reasons he took the job if he was honest. A face and curves like the old Hollywood starlets he had always been drawn to. The truth was Steve saw a lot of gorgeous women, but true beauty was something else and Natasha had it in spades. He spotted her walking toward him and the very air in the room seemed to change as she did.   


She stopped in front of him, a warm smile on her lips. “Hey, Steve,” she greeted and the way she looked at him sent chills down his spine. Like they were friends, like he  _ meant _ something to her and her wasn't just some photographer she happened to work with a few times. She was a few inches shorter than him without the heels on yet, but even still she seemed statuesque somehow.  Larger than life.     
  
“Hey, Natasha,” he greeted back as he started hooking up his tethering system for the camera.  “How’s life been - I saw that movie by the way, you were amazing in it.”   
  
Natasha smiled at the compliment and rested a hand on his arm.  Steve was sure his heart was about to jump out of his chest at the contact.  “You’re too sweet,” she started, a smile playing across her features.  “The movie was shit, Steve, but thank you anyways.”   
  
Steve laughed a little at that and shrugged sheepishly.  “Yeah, well… you were still good in it,” he assured her.  The movie had been pretty awful, some artistic thing that missed every mark it tried to hit.  He’d really only watched it for her and he hadn’t just been trying to be nice - she had been far better than the material.  “You have anything else coming up?” he asked like he didn’t stalk her IMDB page, like he didn’t already know she was in talks for some big budget thing opposite one of the Chrises though for the life of him he couldn’t say which one.     
  
She shrugged and gave him a smile.  “ _ Hopefully _ a sci fi movie that looks absolutely amazing, at least the parts of the script they sent me for auditioning - my agent is working his ass off to get me it.  The screen tests went good but they’re not sure if they want to risk casting some relative unknown though,” she made a bit of a face at that last bit.  While Natasha was thrilled to be making a move into acting it had been tough to even get where she was.  The stigma of model turned actress ran deep and like so many things in her career there was a frustrating amount of not being taken seriously.     
  
Steve gave her and encouraging smile.  “You’ll get it,” he insisted.   
  
Natasha laughed. “Wish I had your faith, Steve,” she said with a soft sigh.  She held her hand out, “Grey card?”   
  
Steve nodded, handed her the gray card and clicked a few buttons on his laptop.  Music filled the room, just enough to add ambience but not so much to overpower.  One of his designated sexy photoshoots playlist.  He slid his flash trigger on the top of his camera, took a few quick shots of the ground to test that the tether was set up correctly and then nodded toward where there was a small set beside a large window.  “We’ll start by the window,” he instructed and followed her over to the spot.     
  
Natasha gave him a few goofy faces that he couldn’t help but laugh at as he took his test shots with the meter before she handed the grey card off to his assistant.  “Ready?”  he asked before they moved into the actual shots.  The stylist came over and adjusted a few things, a couple pieces of hair, and tugged at the lingerie set Natasha wore.  A black number with lace detailing and some white polka dots and Steve was sure the image of her in it would be on his mind long after the day was done.  Hell, he still thought of her in the red thing from the last time.  The stylist nodded and Steve moved in closer.  He handed her the edge of the sheet that had been hung and Natasha’s fingers curled around it.  She smiled up at him, _ flirty _ even and his heart pounded in his chest.     
  
“Good,” he breathed out as she softened her grip.  Soft hands, soft hands always separated the amateurs from the professionals.  “We’ll start full length, move in closer as we go,” he instructed and she nodded at the words.     
  
Steve walked back from her, enough of distance to get her in frame and started snapping.  He’d give a few glances over to his laptop screen where the images displayed as they imported, but for the most part he let it flow.  Which had always been so easy to do with Natasha.  Of course all the models he worked with were to the level they posed easily and fluidly, but there had always been something  _ more _ with Natasha.  An ease with how they worked together, like she could read exactly what he wanted before he even had to say it.  The fill light above him popped away as he shot, and he moved closer to her as he brought the images into a closer crop.     
  
They worked through the poses that the client typically gravitated toward, and then some that were a bit “outside of the box” - some that were his standards or ones he used often for the type of work and some he asked Natasha to come up, she’d been doing this just as long if not longer than her and he always valued her thoughts on a shoot.  They moved back and forth between the shooting space and then his laptop.  They previewed the images and discussed what was working and wasn’t working.  A collaboration more than just him directing her.   
  
Steve knew it was probably just his imagination, or Natasha being  _ that _ damn good at her job, but when her eyes met his behind the camera he felt a pull every time.  A feeling like all the little coy smiles, the seductive looks, the  _ chemistry _ between them was more than just her doing what she was paid to do.  That maybe she meant it when she looked at him like she would love nothing more than to have him rip every scrap of clothing from her body.  He felt rattled every time the stylist stepped in to adjust something, even more so as Natasha’s eyes stayed on his the whole time.  He found himself having to break the contact, to turn and use getting a drink as an excuse to look away from her.     
  
Harder to ignore, harder to keep from going to him in ways he knew he shouldn’t were the times he had to step in and physically touch her.  When he’d curl his fingers gently around her wrist and place her arm and hand where it was needed, how it felt like a current that ran between them.  Sparks he mused but realized that was a stupid and cheesy thing to think.  Or how her breath would catch with his hand on her shoulder as he guided her into spot, helped her to find the pose he was looking for.  She looked up at him, her eyes dark and he found himself having to go through every damn trick in the book to keep from finding himself in an unprofessional manner.    
  
The afternoon turned to evening soon enough and as he lost the light from the windows he called an end, confident he had gotten more than enough images for the client.  There was a bit of a commotion as everyone moved about, packing up their things and getting ready to leave.  Steve busied himself by doing a quick check through the images and then setting everything up to back up.   He put his gear back where it belonged, and before he knew it the place had emptied out.    
  
Well… almost.   
  
Natasha stood in the back corner of the studio space.  Her back was turned to him to look at a few prints he had mounted and hung on the wall.  Black and white images of the people in his life, all shot film, clean and simple.  Steve walked over to her and she turned to look at him.  “These are beautiful,” she said and he could tell by her tone she wasn’t just placating him, or trying to be nice.  “Bucky, right?” she asked as she pointed to the one of Bucky, Steve had caught him mid laugh, a hand to his temple with his head hung slightly.    
  
“Yeah,” Steve answered, “I’m surprised you remembered,” he admitted.  Natasha had only met Bucky once, when he’d all but crashed their last shoot.     
  
“Of course I remembered,” she said softly and looked back to hold his gaze, a small smile on her lips.     
  
Steve felt warm under the gaze, flushed, and he had to look down, rubbed a hand along the back of his neck.  “I guess he does tend to make an impression,” he joked.  Because of course she would remember Bucky.  Bucky who was tall, handsome, always knew what to say.  Bucky who was so unlike himself with scrawny limbs and an awkwardness streak a mile long anytime he wasn’t behind a camera.     
  
“You make a better one,” she said softly as she glanced back to the images on the wall.  “You know I don’t think I have one  _ real  _ photo of me,” she added. She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked back at Steve.  “I mean you do amazing work, Steve, don’t get me wrong and I know everything we shot today will be beautiful… but… these,” she continued and looked back at the images again.  “ _ These _ are authentic.  Who someone really is, not some persona to sell…” she trailed off and laughed a little.  “I don’t even know what we were selling today, how bad is that,” she said.    
  
“Perfume,” Steve supplied, and then paused.  “I think,” he added with a small laugh of his own.  It was refreshing really, to know she felt the same about it all as he did.  He slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants.  A silence lingered between them as he worked up the nerve to suggest what he wanted to suggest.  “I could - I mean if you wanted - I could take one for you - “ another pause as she turned to look at him and he felt his breath catch in his throat.  “A real photo.”   
  
A smile tugged at Natasha’s lips and Steve wondered if he was an idiot to think about how he’d be more than happy to make her smile that for the rest of his life.  “Really?” she asked, as though he had better things to do with his time than spend it with her.     
  
He nodded. “Of course.  I’m free now - you know - if you want -” he stumbled through and then inwardly kicked himself.  Because now was too eager, now was too forward.  Now was a time frame in which she certainly had plans with someone better than him.     
  
But she nodded and grinned.  “I want to.”   
  
Steve nodded.  “Okay, now then,” he said, a small laugh as he realized he sounded ridiculous.  He glanced around awkwardly and then smiled at her sheepishly.  “Uh just… like fifteen minutes?” he half declared, half asked and then worked on getting ready.  He could feel Natasha’s eyes on him as he set up, a stool dragged in front of a muslin backdrop that hung from a pipe in the back of the studio, a light pulled up.  He pulled down his Mamiya from the shelves that housed his gear.    


“You still dating that musician… Jane was it?” Natasha asked as she wandered over to the stool. She took a seat as Steve loaded his camera. 

“Yeah, Jane. And no,” he shook his head. “Not for a while now.”  Jane the pianist who had found some tall, broad shouldered hunk while on tour in Norway. Story of his fucking life. 

“Her loss,” Natasha mused and Steve for the second time in a short amount of time felt the blush creep across his face. She was just being nice he told himself. She didn't mean it like  _ that.  _ How  _ could  _ she. Women like Natasha didn't mean it like  _ that  _ when it came to guys like him. 

Steve cleared his throat and turned to grab his light meter from the table. He moved the light into place and then stood by Natasha. He triggered his light, meter in front of her face and checked the reading. A few more adjustments and then he moved to stand behind his camera on a tripod. 

Natasha gave him a smile and he snapped a photo. Motions. Which he knew she didn't want. It was the same smile she'd give for her job. But Steve also knew you didn't get  _ the _ shot first shot. “Tell me about the movie,” he prompted her. 

Natasha's feet rested on the bottom rung of the stool. Her hands pressed to the edge of it between her legs. She smiled warmly when Steve mentioned the movie and he pressed the shutter. Close, but still not what he was waiting for. “It's - it'll be amazing, Steve. It's about these two people who volunteered for a deep space mission, but something goes wrong and they wake up from cyro-sleep decades before they're supposed to, decades before everyone else. So there's all these questions of why they were the only ones to wake up and of course how do you deal with knowing you're most likely going to live out the rest of your life with only one other person to keep you company.”

Steve watched her as she talked and nodded. “Sounds like it would be an amazing movie,” he said. 

Natasha grinned and Steve pressed the shutter. “It would be,  _ if _ I get it,” she paused, her lips pressed together. “I don't know…” she started and then shrugged. She lifted her hands from the stool, brought a knee up under her chin and her foot now the edge. Her chin rested on her legging clad knee, arm around her leg. Her hair was still in curls from the shoot, framing her face and as she looked out the window at the lights of the city Steve was sure he'd never seen anything so beautiful. “I just - no one takes me seriously, not really.  They never have.  I’m sick of it, I’m sick of feeling like all I’m worth is looking good in a picture, I just - “ Steve watched her shoulders as they heaved with a sigh.  “I want people to look at me and see more than just some pretty girl, you know?”

Steve nodded. He supposed he didn’t really. Know. At least not in the same way. But he knew what it was liked to be judged by how you looked. He knew what it felt like to spend a lifetime being glanced over by everyone. Discounted because he'd never filled out, never gotten taller, never gotten back what his sickly childhood had taken from him. His mouth was dry, but his palms were so wet he had to run them over his pants. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous. What he was about to say he was sure she'd never take as the way he intended anyways. “Natasha,” he started and then cleared his throat before he continued. “I see more. Always have.”

She turned at that, a look of awe on her face. He snapped the photo and then immediately again as her face broke out in a huge grin to the first flash. “You're such a shit, Rogers,” she said laughing. “Playing with my emotions for a shot.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Never, scouts honor,” he promised. 

“Like you were ever a boy scout,” she teased.

“Hey,” he protested. “I was for two weeks…” he'd had to quit when the cancer came back, but somehow he didn't want to bring that up. “Anyways I got the shot,” he told her. He worked on loosening the camera from the tripod head, something to busy his hands while he pressed his luck again. “I have to develop the film and do a print so… I could call you tomorrow with it…” he licked his lips, “unless you wanted time hang out for a while, it'd be about an hour?”

Natasha smiled as she moved off the stool. “I'll hang out.”

Steve ducked his head as a grin crossed his features, absolutely amazed at the way his night was turning out. “Cool,” he said, flustered, “Yeah that's cool,” he added and winced. “Uhm are you hungry?  There's some food in the fridge, some drinks too… I uh.. I have more upstairs if you want something else, or I could order something in…”

“Steve,” she interrupted him, “whatever you have down here is fine,” she assured him. She moved toward the fridge in the little kitchenette area and pulled out a carton. She held it up for Steve who had started to clean up.  “This still good?” she asked. 

“Yeah it was from last night,” he told her. “I'm just gonna develop the roll, there's Netflix on the laptop if you want.”

Natasha grabbed two beers and a fork before she headed toward Steve.  “Can I watch?”

Steve raised a brow. “Watch what?  Me develop the roll?”  She nodded in reply and Steve shrugged. “Sure, if you want, the film part is kind of boring but yeah.”

Natasha laughed a while later as she sat on the counter beside the sink.  “You're right, it's a little boring, I can't even see what's happening.”

Steve had spooled the film into the developer tank and was now about halfway through the fifteen minute developer bath. He turned the tank back and forth in his hand and gave Natasha a shrug. “The next part is better,” he said. “You can actually see it happen when  you develop a print.”  He watched her as she ate a few bites of the leftover Pad Thai, his eyes locked onto her lips as they wrapped around the fork. He wondered if she had any inkling of how much she got to him, especially now. 

She set the fork back in the container and then held a bite out for him. “I doubt you want to get any of those chemicals near your mouth,” she offered. Steve leaned in and took the bite. Natasha fucking Romanoff spoon feeding him Pad Thai while he developed film. Steve was pretty sure he'd died and gone to heaven. 

Natasha took a drink of her beer and Steve swallowed hard.  She was close,  _ so _ close, and for the first time he didn’t have a camera to hide behind, a distance to be put between them.  She assaulted his senses, the feel of her warm skin as their arms brushed against each others, the smell of her perfume, the  _ buzz _ between them that he was sure he was just imagining.  He focused on the work, because focusing on her would lead him down to thoughts that he probably should not be having.  Thoughts that would very quickly betray him in a physical way.  The last thing he needed was to have his dick get hard because he’d stupidly let himself think about what it would be like to bury his head between her legs.     
  
The film was processed, beers drank.  He snagged the rest of the leftovers from her as they waited for the strip to dry and it wasn’t long before she’d crowded into the small darkroom with him, their skin a weird shade from the red light.  She leaned over his shoulder as he projected the image from the enlarger and focused it on the table below.  He would do a more detailed print later, find the optimal exposure and time but he’d shot enough portraits in the same spot with similar lighting to know where about to go for a decent print for now.  He knew Natasha was probably anxious to see and wouldn’t want to wait for him to run a handful of test strips.   
  
“Why film?” she asked as he shut the light off and slipped a piece of paper into place.   
  
Steve shrugged a little at the question.  “It was what I learned on, way back in the day,” he started.  A small laugh at back in the day.  He hit the switch for the light, counted the time and then flipped it off again.  Natasha followed as he brought the paper over to the trays of chemicals.  He lifted the lid of the developer tray and slipped the print in.  “There’s something satisfying about the process that you don’t get in digital,” he looked to her to see her smile as the image started to form on the page.  Her hand had curled around his arm, her body pressed close to his as she stood beside him.  His mind reeled at the closeness, at the things he wanted to do.     
  
“I’ve never seen it like that - I had a film camera when I was a kid but we always just took the rolls to the store,” she said, eyes on the image as it appeared.  Steve lifted it from the developer and then moved it to the stop and fix baths.  “I see why you like doing it this way,” she added as she watched him move through the other steps.     
  
Steve rinsed the print and placed it in a tray to take out of the darkroom.  “It’s authentic,” he said with a shrug.  “You can’t retouch film, you can’t take away all the little imperfections someone has that makes them  _ them. _ ”  He put the print down on the table and looked to her as she looked it over.  Her smile was wide in the image, mid laugh really and a  _ real _ laugh.  There wasn’t anything fancy about the image, but it was striking nonetheless.  A moment caught that was her through and through.  The little scar above her eyebrow that he was always instructed to remove in post production, crinkles across her forehead from the expression, freckles across her cheekbones.  He kept his gaze on her as she looked the image over, the furrow of her brow, the expression on her face.  The way she  _ meant  _ it when she said, “it’s a beautiful picture, Steve, thank you.”   
  
He felt his nerves collect in the pit of his stomach at what he  _ longed _ to say right then.  And he debated letting it be, but he knew he would just kick himself later for wasting the opportunity.  “ _ That’s _ how I see you, Natasha,” he started and swallowed hard as she looked up at him.  “You’re so much more than just some pretty girl, Natasha… you’re amazing,” he was in it now and as he realized that very terrifying fact he started to speed up his words.  “I mean you’re funny, you’re smart, you’re so talented - you were the best damn thing in that terrible movie and anyone would be lucky to have you working on their projects.  You’re sweet and kind, you always ask about everything… fuck you remembered the name of my best friend who you met once for all of five minutes…”   
  
His ramble was cut off as she stepped into him and pressed her lips to his.  Steve froze for a moment before he responded, even if his mind still hadn’t caught up to the very real fact that Natasha Romanoff was  _ kissing _ him.  Not some friendly little peck, not some pity kiss even as she wrapped her fingers around his shirt and pulled him in even closer, his hands moving to wrap around her back.  She kissed him like maybe he hadn’t been the only one who had wanted to do this for so long now.     
  
Her lips were swollen when they parted, but she kept close, her fingers still curled around his shirt, her lips still brushing against his as she talked.  “Steve, for the record, since I feel like I should probably be honest about this given it was one of the reasons you listed… I only remembered your best friend’s name because I’ve wanted to sleep with you since the first time we worked together…” she smiled sheepishly and peered up at him from underneath her lashes.   
  
Steve was sure he looked as shocked as he felt at her words.  “Are you serious?”  he couldn’t help but blurt out before he could stop himself.    
  
She laughed softly at him.  “Yeah, I’m serious,” she assured him.  “I mean I flirted my ass of that first shoot and you just... “ she shrugged.  “And then you had a girlfriend so I couldn’t really do anything but fuck, Steve, I  _ wanted _ to, and today?  You’re an idiot by the way.  You are a  _ complete _ idiot if you can still ask me if I’m serious after today,” she continued with a small laugh.    


“And before you even  _ think _ of asking why - because I like you.  Because you’re so goddamn talented, Steve and you inspire me to work harder.  Because you watched that crappy movie just because I was in it, because I’ve been doing this for a decade now and you’re the  _ only _ photographer who has ever given a damn about my opinion on a shoot, who has let me be more than just the subject.  Also you’re so hot, Steve, like I know maybe you don’t see it but trust me, you’ve got this whole artist from Brooklyn thing going for you and it works, it works  _ so  _ damn well.  So I’d really like to go back to kissing you,” she paused.  “Actually I’d really like for you to take me upstairs,” she amended, a coy smile on her lips.

  
Steve gulped.  He couldn’t believe the words she was speaking, that they had come on the heels of her  _ kissing him _ .  He couldn’t help but laugh a little as he felt his face redden.  “Well, shit then,” he answered lightly.  “I’m sorry,” he offered, “for you know, being an idiot.”   
  
Natasha leaned up and pressed her lips to his.  “Don’t worry, you can make it up to me,” she teased.    


Steve kissed her, slowly, his hands moved to tangle in her hair as he pressed her back against the edge of the table.  It still felt surreal somehow - not that he was  _ that _ unconfident in his ability to be attractive to a woman, he had just always assumed this particular woman was too far out of his league.  Still though, it was clearly happening and he sure as hell wasn’t going to waste the chance that had been presented.  His hands roamed her body, brushed over her breasts through her shirt and she hummed appreciatively.    Her lips moved to suck his earlobe in and he hissed a breath in.  “Fuck,” he stammered out, and he was hard as hell already.  His hands tugged at her shirt and pulled it over her head and he groaned a little when he saw she was braless underneath, his hands now free to roam her bare skin, his hands pushed against her breasts, fingers toyed with her nipples.  And as she ground her hips against his he was shocked he didn’t come right then and there like some teenager necking in his parent’s basement.   
  
“Bedroom?” Natasha asked between desperate kisses and Steve nodded.  He reached for her hand and led her to the stairs up to the loft above his studio.  They stumbled toward his bed, a tangle of lips and limbs as they tugged at each other’s clothes, as they kissed with clumsy footsteps.  When they hit the bed Steve hovered over her, peppered his lips along the side of her neck and let his hands trace up the inside of her thigh.     
  
“Jesus, Steve,” she hissed out as he moved between her legs.  Maybe it had been a matter of pride, a realization that in a world full of tall frat boys he and his scrawny frame needed to have at least  _ some _ advantage, but Steve had made it his mission to figure out this part of sex and figure it out well.   More than that he  _ liked _ it, he liked being able to pull a girl completely apart, the way their legs would tighten, the sounds they’d make as he brought them to release.    


Especially when that girl was Natasha.  Her fingers scraped against his scalp, tugged in his hair as he sucked her clit into his mouth.  He slipped two digits into her wetness, and curled them just so, a grin against her as she let out a moan.  “Steve.. Fuck… that feels..” she mumbled.  He alternated the intensity of his mouth against her core, a hand slipped behind her ass to cradle her close to his mouth.  He’d bring her right to the edge, until he could tell she was  _ so  _ close and then back off a little.  He had no idea what this  would mean for them in the long run, but he sure as hell wanted to be sure she’d think of him long after tonight.  “Steve…” she all but begged, “I’m so… fuck…” her hands pressed him hard against her, but he was more than willing to comply, and he kept the intensity up this time.  She came hard against his face, her fingers tight in his hair almost to the point of painful, but he had zero complaints.     
  
“Shit…” she breathed out after a long moment.  “Shit…” she repeated and laughed.     
  
Steve wiped his mouth on his hand and looked up at her, still between her legs, a smug smirk on his face.  He pressed a few soft kisses to the inside of her thigh and then moved up her body to claim her lips again with his.  His dick pressed into her, hard and aching for attention.  He groaned as she grinded against him.  Her hand moved between them, fingers curled around his length and he almost lost it right then.  He let her lead as she nudged him onto his back and then moved to straddle his lap.  She leaned back down to kiss him and he fumbled a hand to the bedside table.  Somehow he managed to dig out a condom and she took it from him.     
  
Natasha sat up as she ripped open the packet.  She rolled the condom slowly over his dick, a grin on her lips as he moaned at the touch.  He angled to sit up but she pressed her hands to his chest and nudged him back down.  “Your turn,” she said.  She slowly sank herself onto his dick, and he couldn’t help but moan again as her slick heat surrounded him.  

  
“God you feel good, Tasha..” he managed to get out, his hands on her hips.  She started to roll her hips, slowly, teasingly, and he was sure he was about to die from the feel of it.  He slid his hand closer to her center, he knew he wouldn’t last long and he wanted to make sure she got off with him.  His thumb circled against her clit, and her hips bucked against his harder.  Steve’s eyes locked on hers as she moved above him, committing to memory the way she looked right then.  Pupils blown wide with desire, those lips that he had thought of often when his hand roamed down during a sleepless night parted with a moan.  And skin, so much skin that it made him dizzy.  Creamy smooth in the dim light of the loft.  

  
Her hands pressed into his chest for leverage as she rode him, hips rolling back and forth.  Her head fell back as his thumb kept the pressure against her clit.  Steve could feel himself quickly getting close to finishing.  It was all so much, and he had wanted this for  _ so  _ long, thought about it for so long.  He could feel her rhythm start to grow erratic though and he could tell she was close too, and he held out until he felt her inner walls spasm around him.  And only then did he give into his own release, her name on his lips in a moan of pleasure.     
  
Natasha fell forward, and he wrapped his arms around her back as her body shook along with his.  They didn’t move for a few minutes as they came down, and Steve was the first to break the silence with a soft laugh.  “Yeah, I’m a goddamn idiot,” he agreed again to her earlier statement, because God if he had known they could have done this ages ago, he would have.     
  
“I’ll be sure to whip you into shape in the future,” she replied lightly, her face buried into his neck.  She pressed a kiss to the skin there and then gently untangled herself to curl into his side.  Her arm snaked across his chest and he wrapped his around her, he pressed a kiss to her head and sighed contently. He knew they would have to move eventually.  Get cleaned up, he’d left some lights on downstairs he’d have to turn off.  But right then he was more than happy to just lay in bed with her.     
  
He mulled over her words, wanting to get his hopes up at them but also worried this might be a one time thing.  “So… spell it out for my idiot self here…” he started and ducked his head so he could look at her.  “If I were to ask you out for dinner you would say?”   
  
She smiled, wrinkled her nose and shook her head.  “Yes.  I would say yes, Steve,” she answered and leaned up to kiss him.     
  
He pulled back from her after a moment, and knew he might be pushing his luck with the next question.  “And if I were to ask you to stay?” he asked anyways, a little bit shyer than the first, a little bit softer.     
  
“I’d still say yes,” she answered softly, her fingers dusted against the line of his jaw as she spoke.   
  
He grinned at that and pulled her in closer.  “Good,” he replied and moved a hand behind her neck as he kissed her again.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Bonus: 
> 
> BB》 Dude.  
> BB》 You’re late.  
> BB》 Brunch, remember?  
> BB》 Where you at?
> 
> SR》 Can’t, sorry Buck.  
> SR》 Something came up.  
> SR》 Still in bed.
> 
> BB》 It’s noon, get your ass out of bed.  
> BB》 I’m fucking starving, man, come on.
> 
> SR》 Can’t.
> 
> BB》 Give me one good reason.
> 
> SR》 I’m not in bed alone?
> 
> BB》 You asshole.  
> BB》 I hate you.


End file.
